It seems like everybody in the United States over the age of 30 has high blood pressure..well, maybe just ninety-nine per cent of people I know. Some of them are on as many as four meds a day to lower and control that undeniably unforgiving silent killer.

As I mentioned in the “About You” page, one of the reasons for starting a blog was to write about pitfalls I’ve been through that would cause much distress for anyone. This is an example:

Many of us are trying to find ways to keep our blood pressure within normal range with diet, exercise, physical activity, yoga, tai chi, etc.

For a long time I’ve heard and read about the wonderful benefits of yoga and how it can lower blood pressure, so I decided to give it a try. Unfortunately, I didn’t know about this warning.

By the way, when some people heard that I was taking yoga classes, they envisioned me sitting on the floor with my eyes closed, legs folded like a pretzel, palms together and humming a prayer to a foreign god. I let them know that my plan was to gain more strength and energy, improve flexibility and balance, increase stamina, and to aim for relaxation and stress reduction. I assured them that yoga would not short-circuit my faith.

One day our instructor announced that those of us with high blood pressure or glaucoma, should not do the following poses. Well, I assumed she didn’t mean me because I didn’t have glaucoma and my BP was under control, so I did those poses. On the way home I realized I wasn’t feeling “quite right” when usually I felt great after class. I was pretty sure my BP was up. Now I know “they” say we can’t feel when our BP is elevated, however, I can usually feel when mine is either too high or too low. How about you?

At home, sure enough, my blood pressure readings were sky-high. After much research, I discovered that those positions we were warned about are called inversions. They’re a group of yoga poses where the legs or hips are higher than the heart, or the heart is higher than the head,

causing blood pressure to spike, thereby increasing the risk for a stroke or other cardiac event. Those who have glaucoma (an eye condition) must avoid those inversions also because they increase the pressure of the fluid inside the eye which can cause vision loss or even blindness.

Of course there was no need to stop the classes, I just stopped doing those poses.

Lesson learned–know your risks and don’t assume.

Some of this information is part of the “Dumbbells And Diet” post now buried in the archives. Because this warning can prevent a serious outcome for many people, I decided to bring it to the attention of those who didn’t read that post.

Let us know your thoughts. You’re the reason for this blog. So please, leave a message in the Comments section below and arrow down to click the Post Comment button. What you say may be just the thing to make someone’s day. Thanks.

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Are you one of the millions suffering joint aches and pains that interfere in your life? Are you spending big bucks on pain meds, injections, ibuprofen, and other remedies to relieve that pain? Whether mild or excruciating, pain is your body warning you that something is wrong. What if your pain is being caused by what you’re eating?

As I recounted in the post “Goodbye Arthur” (now in the archives), I thought I had arthritis or that perhaps I was a candidate for a hip or knee replacement. Continuing exercise class was out of the question when even raising my arms became too painful. It was an effort to get in and out of the car as well as the bed. Thankfully, I had been keeping a food journal for a long time and I soon identified the “wrongdoer” — gluten, the protein found in wheat. I was tested for celiac disease, and to my relief, the test was negative; however I am gluten sensitive. There’s a wide range of symptoms associated with gluten, and joint pain is just one of them (brain fog is another).

All the goodies we love to eat, from mouth watering pastry to tempting pasta; from scrumptious cakes and fluffy croissants, to crunchy coating on chicken; if it’s made from wheat, rye or barley, it will cause much distress for those of us who can’t tolerate gluten. Many of those foods can now be purchased gluten-free but some are rated low in vitamins, minerals, fiber, texture and taste, and high in fat, cost and calories.

Unfortunately, gluten is often hidden in some brands of a surprising number of products and foods, such as beer and popcorn. For a better understanding of celiac disease, gluten sensitivity, and wheat allergy, read the post “Tips–Gluten No-No’s” (in archives). There you’ll find information about other grains considered safe as well as those to avoid. Also included is a list of ingredients to watch out for.

Why not start your own food journal and then really pay attention to “body talk” to see which foods trigger your symptoms? Perhaps you’ll discover that the problems inflicting misery on your body are similar to symptoms of gluten sensitivity or celiac disease. But wait! Before switching to a gluten-free diet, discuss your findings with your doctor. If he or she decides to test you for celiac disease, in order to get an accurate diagnosis, gluten needs to be in your system, otherwise the test will show a false negative. However, even if you don’t have celiac disease, your symptoms could be due to gluten sensitivity, then you can eliminate gluten because it’s a problem for you.

(A recent article on health stated that 35% of adults search online to try to diagnose health conditions, and believe it or not, 41% of those who self-diagnose had their condition confirmed by a physician.)

Good luck!

Watch for a series of posts on “Gluten Tips” and a series on “Body Talk” revealing other health issues many of us are experiencing. Hopefully, you’ll be able to identify the culprit robbing your well-being.

Always check with your primary care doctor before making any major changes.

Related post: “No Wheat, No Weight? — Part 2”

Let us know your thoughts. You’re the reason for this blog (see the “About You” page). So please, leave a message in the Comments section below and arrow down to click the Post Comment button. What you say may be just the thing to make someone’s day. Thanks.

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Recently, I read a story by a man who grew up in a family where all the kids had to put in their time taking piano lessons on their pride and joy…a big beautiful baby grand piano. His story brought back memories.

At a very young age, I too had to take piano lessons…against my will! In my immature mind I thought it was child abuse, but nobody had given it a name at that time.

Somehow my mother got the idea that I should become a famous piano player. I don’t know if this revelation came to her before or after she found the piano. No, we didn’t have a big beautiful baby grand piano, but my mother did admire our neighbor’s big beautiful baby grand piano. Ms. Denny could really play that thing. Her fingers would glide across those keys like magic.

We would never have been able to afford a piano. We were probably listed as poor, but we didn’t feel poor until we didn’t have enough money to buy something that wasn’t a necessity. Because of fishing poles, vegetable gardens, fruit trees, and somebody’s chickens, we never went hungry. Even though we got a new outfit only a few times a year, we had plenty of clothes because my mother could have written a book on shopping at thrift stores. Lots of things in our home had been new in someone else’s home. How lucky we were to live across the street from Bosco’s junk yard. The whole neighborhood had a good time roaming around that place and admiring the treasures we found. My mother was always on the lookout for a great bargain…or a freebie.

One day she came home from work all excited about a piano she found. It was sitting at the curb in front of a house in the rich part of town. My father called a few of his friends and off they went in his pickup truck to retrieve that piano before a junk man could get it.

Her prize “find” was a player piano, along with a box of useless piano rolls. It took up much too much space in our tiny living room. Mom did scrounge up enough money to have it tuned and several keys were fixed. It would serve the purpose–piano lessons for me. Stress!

Saturday mornings, there I was, sitting at Ms. Denny’s big beautiful baby grand piano. I loved that piano but hated the lessons. I was not one bit interested in lessons and after a few weeks, Ms. Denny told my mother that I wasn’t paying attention and that all I wanted to do was show off and flick my braids. I told myself that Ms. Denny was just jealous because she didn’t have long braids to flick. My mother told me that if I didn’t “straighten up and fly right” she would beat my butt for wasting her hard-earned money. Since my mother didn’t make idle threats, I soon learned to play the piano. Stress!

She was so excited about her budding pee-anist, she told everybody. Whenever our church, or anybody’s church, had any kind of special Sunday afternoon celebration, she made sure I was part of the entertainment on the program. I would get almost physically sick to my stomach just thinking about having to play. I was terrified of making mistakes and hitting the wrong notes. Stress!

This went on for probably about a year and I hated it. One very hot summer day, a little old church out in the sticks, was celebrating something and had booked too many people on the program. There was no air conditioning in churches back then and I was the last one on the program. When my name was called, I trembled in fear as usual as I walked down the aisle and sat on that rickety old piano stool, at that dusty old dilapidated piano and started playing my two-page piece of music. Stress!

It was no surprise to anyone that the poor old piano had been neglected for a long time. It looked like it should be sitting at the curb waiting for the junk man. Not only was it out of tune but some of the keys would stick and some didn’t play at all. I thought about giving up and returning to my seat, but for some reason I relaxed, sat up straight, and let my fingers glide across those keys like Ms. Denny as I pretended I was playing at Carnegie Hall. It didn’t matter that I played the wrong notes because nobody knew if it was me or the broken down piano at fault. The congregation clapped with delight when I finished because now they could say the benediction and go home. My mother was probably mortified, but she never said a word about that performance, and she never ever booked another gig. Hallelujah!

***

Several decades later I happily took piano lessons again and love playing now. It just may ward off Alzheimer’s disease plus, it’s a wonderful way to relax and relieve stress. One day I may be able to afford a big beautiful baby grand piano.